each one of us is a witness to
that which is glistening in the distance
spinning it's soliloquy of silence
into the brine that surrounds us on
all sides in times of great stress
and above a town without any honour
the sky is alive with lancaster bombers
as i whisper all my tips unto the grizzled god of the ad hoc
he sat me down and me talk of topics, ghostly and ferocious
and how we might stitch the rustic to the rigid and digital
it's the time of the year for incredible gestures
something to minimise the difference and stitch us all together
and somewhere in a village stripped of all visible history
our siblings have somehow learnt how to drink themselves to victory
to victory, to victory, to victory.
it's the opening night
and the opening notes
and the room is alight
with the hologram of hope
reflecting off varifocal lenses
miraculous happenstance
miraculous happenstance
fulfil your attendance with no hint of duress
at the festival that never lets you forget
miraculous happenstance
falsified in electric light
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